


It's All I'm After

by ThatKanraGirl



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Fryecest - Freeform, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9436805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatKanraGirl/pseuds/ThatKanraGirl
Summary: He drives her crazy, but it's the kind of crazy that's curious and new.





	

Jacob isn’t romantic, Evie thinks. He’s crude in his speech, with biting wit and a comeback for every little thing, not to mention that he’s hardly logical and rough around the edges. Honestly, is it so much to ask that he dresses in something that isn’t falling apart at the seams or coated in a thick layer of mud? 

Naturally, the flowers that turn up on the small table beside the armchair are from Henry. Jacob isn’t that considerate and hasn’t the faintest idea what the combination of honeysuckle and apple blossoms mean. She’s absolutely certain they aren’t from him after he spins some wild tale of how some poor bloke who didn’t know she was spoken for asked him to leave them for her. Why did he have to make everything such a production? 

…the flowers were very lovely, though. 

Evie definitely doesn’t think he’s great with children. After all, Jacob is still a child himself, always running amuck and stirring up trouble. She entertains the idea that that sort of behavior actually makes him identify more with children, and thus makes him good with them, but she brushes it aside. Besides, Clara and Artie are special cases, and it isn’t as though Evie has given any serious thought to Jacob being a father, much less the best kind of father a child can have. 

‘He’s just not the type,’ she tells herself after her third pint and her mind is a bit fuzzy. Azure eyes linger on him as she reaches for her fourth and she can’t help the stupid smirk that curls on her lips when he steps away from his lively chatter with his Rooks and approaches her. As for the jolt of excitement that races through her veins when he suggests they leave early, she pretends it’s just a chill, and that it has nothing to do with the way his fingertips dance along the small of her back for just a second longer than what can be considered brotherly. 

London is alive with music on the streets and she can’t remember the last time she’s felt so light on her feet, or the last time that Jacob has looked quite as dashing as he does when he’s offering her a real smile, and not the plastered smirk that he’s grown accustomed to putting on for show. Evie knows that he isn’t the dancing type and has never fancied anything of the sort, but she giggles – actually giggles – when he takes her hand and starts to waltz with her in the middle of the street with a grace she doesn’t think he really has.

‘This can’t be my Jacob’, she thinks, but through the static that buzzes in her head from the ale and the up tempo tune that rings through the night, she hopes that it is. This Jacob is new, but still familiar. He’s the perfect blend of what she wants and what she needs. 

“We could be together like this,” his voice cuts through the haze and his normally crude manner vanishes with nothing but a genuine, lovely man in its wake. Evie’s throat is suddenly tight, but from what, she isn’t clear. She thinks at first it’s because of her natural ability to see reason. Be with him like this? Romantically? Nonsense. After all, they are siblings.

However, the more Evie thinks, the more she enjoys the idea of spending her life like this. Of course, she rationalizes that it’s the alcohol speaking for her when she replies with a soft, “I think I might like that,” but she knows that it’s maybe the most honest she’s been with herself in years. 

When he kisses her instead of using any other response he might have quipped, all Evie thinks is Jacob tastes of bitter ale remnants and something sweet that reminds her of home, and that maybe she doesn’t need to think so much.


End file.
